


Here's A Story...

by elderwitty, squidgie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M, SGA Secret Santa Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderwitty/pseuds/elderwitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Sheppard is a widower who makes sure to spend time with his kids, and uses an online website to help him as a single dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here's A Story...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the always awesome mandykaysfic for her SGA Santa. I hope you like it, sweets! And by the end of the story, you'll figure out why we named it what we did. This is a complete AU, no mention of the Stargate program at all!

John pulls into his driveway after a stressful day at Boeing, where he's program manager for the new Business Jet about to hit the market, and feels the pressures of the day begin to slough away. He flips the visor and smiles at the photo of him and Zane at a company Christmas party, their last together. He hides it away again and steps out to greet the trio rushing towards the car chorusing, "Daddy! Daddy!" After his partner's unexpected death three years ago, John made being home for dinner every day a priority - and realized that he benefits from it more than the kids do.  
  
"Hey, Munchkins!" He gives each of the seven-year-olds twins, Cara Grace and Lara Nicole, a kiss on the cheek and turns to six-year-old Robert Brandon, who throws up his arms. John acts like he's going to nuzzle a kiss into his hair, but drops his briefcase and imprisons Robert in a hug so he can blow raspberries on his stomach instead. As Robert giggles and squirms, John spots Gianna Scroggie, their neighbor and babysitter, standing in the door with a big smile on her face.  
  
John tosses his son into a fireman's carry as he herds his daughters - Cara struggling not to drag his briefcase - into the house. He gives Gianna a kiss on the cheek and asks, "How were they?"  
  
"The usual." John knows that means pretty good, with enough mischief to keep her on her toes. He toes the abandoned briefcase under the hall table and walks through to the kitchen, putting Robert down to join his sisters. "I started some gravy for you," Gianna says, nodding at a big pot simmering on the stove.  
  
"You are the _best_ ," John enthuses when she pulls a container of homemade ravioli out of the frig. It's the kids' favorite. "Gianna, what would we ever do without you?" He takes a taste of the slightly spicy sauce ("Gravy! Gravy!" he can hear her insisting in her thick Italian accent) and thinks it's some of the best marinara she's managed to date.  
  
"With Bethany in college now, what else am I to do all day?" She pinches John's cheek and gives him a smile. "I'll see you later. Bye, kids!"  
  
There's a round of "Bye, Auntie Gianna!" from the den, where the kids have gone to play. With a final wave, she's out the door.  
  
John puts a pot of water on the stove and adds a dash of salt. Knowing how fast fresh ravioli cooks, he calls, "Who's ready for dinner?"  
  
The question sets off a flurry of activity. Cara and Lara race in and pull the stepstool over to the sink, taking turns washing their hands. Afterwards they turn to John with their clean hands outstretched. Since their other father's death they've have been determined to help out, so John gets out a bag of salad mix. He quickly slices a cucumber and some cherry tomatoes, passing them and the pre-shredded carrots, sunflower seeds, and dressing to the girls. He's watching them assemble the salad in a big bowl, when Robert gently pulls on his pants pocket. "What can I do, Daddy?"  
  
"Did you wash your hands?"  
  
Robert nods. At John's skeptical look, he clarifies, "This morning I did."  
  
"Tell you what, kiddo. Wash your hands and you can butter the rolls."  
  
Robert exclaims, "Cool!" and rushes to the sink, thrusting his hands under the water briefly before wiping them on his pants and holding them out. "Done!"  
  
John turns Robert around. "How about this time," he says, aiming his son back towards the sink, "we try that with some soap?"  
  
######  
  
After dinner, the kids play their version of _Candyland_ \- which is mixed with a healthy dose of _Duck, Duck Goose!_ \- in the den while John sits on the sofa with his laptop and a hockey game muted on the television. He checks his work and personal emails and then the _Single Dads_ forum of his favorite parenting website. He starts to log into the chatroom, where he's gotten a ton of good advice about raising three kids on his own, but has to break up an argument when someone objects to being _Goose!_  
  
As he settles back on the couch, Robert tugs on his shirtsleeve, shifting quickly from side to side. "Do you have to peepee, Robert?"  
  
"No. I forgots," he says, running to grab his book bag from beside the front door. After a bit of rummaging he hands John a piece of paper. "I hafta make a clock."  
  
John looks at the paper, noting Monday's date. The assignment's due Friday morning. And since it's 6:30pm Thursday, he wonders how much work _he's_ going to have to do to get it done. "A clock, huh?"  
  
"Yeah," Robert replies. "So I can put it up at school and we can learn how to tell the times."  
  
"Okay," John replies, getting off the couch. "Lara, Cara - what did we do with the posterboard left over from your science project?"  
  
"Bobby _barfed_ on it," Lara replies. Cara opines, "Gross!"  
  
Re-checking the assignment sheet, John reads that the clock - moving hands and all - _must_ be posterboard-sized so that it can be seen throughout the classroom.  
  
"Crap," he mutters. He _thinks_ the local grocery/variety store has posterboard, so he grabs his phone and dials. "Hey, Gianna. I'm sorry to bother you, but can I bring the kids over when you're done with dinner? Bobby forgot an assignment, and I have to run out for supplies."  
  
Gianna shows up a few minutes later, assuring John that it's no bother. She was eating alone because, "Luther is working late - _again_." John grabs his keys and leaves.  
  
Thankfully, the Fred Meyer is only a mile away. John finds a spot near the entrance and makes a beeline for the school supplies. He grabs washable paints and thumbtacks, then searches for the all-important posterboard. "A-ha!" he says, spotting the rack as another cart approaches. Standing to one side so the other shopper can pass, he reaches for the lone sheet - only to have his hand covered by the cart's owner, who scowls and says, "That's _mine_."  
  
"Sorry, buddy," John says. "I got here first."  
  
"Yes, but I was _trying_ not run you over. _Clearly_ , that was a bad decision on my part," he gripes, tugging on the posterboard in John's firm grip.  
  
"Listen, pal," John says, trying to sound reasonable through his gritted teeth, "My son needs this posterboard for an assignment. It's due _tomorrow_."  
  
"Well, you should have planned better, shouldn't you?" the man replies smugly.  
  
John nods at the end of the aisle. "There's more on the end-cap down there," he lies.  
  
His adversary, 'Dr. M. R. McKay' according to the security badge from a local biotech firm, glances over before glaring and tightening his grip on John's hand. "Liar."

John pulls a tactic out of his kids' playbook. He grimaces and says, "Owww."  
  
It works - Dr. McKay instantly lets go. John whips the paper into his basketful of supplies and makes his escape.  
  
"Bastard!" rings out behind him.  
  
John throws a cheery smirk over his shoulder before turning towards the checkout lane.  
  
######

Before the twins signed up for soccer, John used to shop Saturday morning. Nowadays he drops the kids off after Gianna and Luther get home from Sunday Mass, and goes to Fred Meyer. He _has_ shopped with all three, but only when there was no other choice. (The last time - hopefully **ever** \- was when the Scroggies were moving their daughter into the dorm at WSU Pullman. Seattle was drooping in a late summer heat wave and the store's air conditioning couldn't keep up with the 106 degree weather. The twins kept whining and running off. John finally got the two of them corralled in the cart, only to realize his son was missing.  
  
"Robert Brandon Sheppard-Marley!" 

"In here, Dad!" came the muffled reply.

John looked around, but couldn't spot him. A blonde head popped up from one of the open-air dairy cases. Robert had somehow clambered in and was lying across a variety of deli-packaged cheeses. "I's comfy!" he declared as his head disappeared back into the cooler.

John tried not to grin as he leaned over and fished his boy out, though the short respite from the brutal heat was most enjoyable. He set Robert down and took his hand to keep him from disappearing again. They were almost back to the cart before John realized that Robert was waggling his shoulder back and forth. "What's the matter, kiddo?"  
  
"I's still cold. My arm," Robert said, shrugging vigorously.  
  
John turned him around and discovered a four-pack of the most expensive cheese slices stuck to the back of Robert's arm. He sighed and peeled it off, looking up to see all three kids pelting toward the lobster tank. Checking to make sure nobody was watching, John frisbeed the cheese into the cooler and took off to reclaim his brood, silently vowing, 'Never again'.)  
  
John smiles at the _Scientists Do It Repeatedly_ bumper sticker on an SUV he passes on his way into the store. He grabs a cart, pulls out his list and starts cruising the aisles with the practiced ease of a pro.  
  
Consulting his list, John's reaching for the peanut butter when a shopping cart with a rattling wheel turns into his aisle, and a voice exclaims, "You!"  
  
It takes John a second to place him as the doctor he beat to the last piece of posterboard Thursday. He drops the jar into his cart and rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry about that," he says, with a smile that's not sorry at all.  
  
"I'll have you know that I had to go all the way to _Ballard_ , thank you very much," the guy snaps. Ballard is only across the bridge from Queen Anne, but the early evening University traffic can be a bear.  
  
"Hey, I said I was sorry." John grabs a jar of grape jelly and makes for the end of the aisle.  
  
Thanks to their nearly identical shopping strategies, they run into each other on almost every row. John stops and studies a package of shrimp Top Ramen to let the other get ahead of him, _and_ to avoid the laser beam glares he's been getting since their interaction in front of the Jif.  
  
"Top Ramen? Really?" John turns at the snotty remark. "I'm sure your kid is just the _epitome_ of health."  
  
John rolls his eyes and abandons the packet. "Bite me," he says, pushing his cart towards the pickles.  
  
The glares continue through produce, meats, frozen foods, and paper products. John almost skips the health and beauty aisle, but remembers that his daughters are almost out of their favorite soap. He powers down the lane, rolling his eyes when the doctor shows up seconds later. John grabs a bottle of Summers Eve and plops it in his adversary's cart as they meet again in front of the Q-tips.  
  
The obviously- _not_ -a-gynecologist freezes in horror. John cackles his way past the bread display and right up to the finish line - aka the checkout.  


John spots his favorite checker and scoots into her line. "Hey, Mister Sheppard," she says as he starts loading the belt.  
  
"Now, Jolene," he says, flashing her a big smile, "I've told you to call me John."  
  
John hears a snort and looks up to see Dr. Sourpuss (as John now thinks of him) smirk and jot something on a piece of paper before stuffing it in his pocket and disappearing into the cereal aisle.  
  
John thinks _That was weird_ and then Jolene asks about the kids. He regales her and Hugh, the general manager who's come to help him bag, with their latest adventures. After the total appears on the register, he enters his _Valued_ _Customer Rewards_ _Number_ before paying by debit, and heads out to his car with nearly a dozen bags.  
  
######  
  
"I'm home!" Rodney calls as he pushes the door shut with his foot. When there's no answer, he drops the bags on the kitchen counter and backtracks to the hall closet, leaning in to unplug the Internet router. This brings an immediate response; his 12-year-old niece Madison, along with 9- and 8-year-old nephews Callum Wyatt and Logan Kai, come thundering down the stairs bellyaching about Rodney's latest aid to family togetherness - a kill switch for all Wi-Fi, Ethernet, and even landline communication. Excluding Rodney's private line, naturally. And though Madison's tried plenty of tricks, she _still_ hasn't been able to hack his access.  
  
"Boys? Head out and grab the rest of the groceries. I got you some new sneakers, too. Mads and I will start lunch. Grilled cheese  & tomato soup okay?" Rodney asks the rapidly disappearing forms of his nephews, getting a general grumble of approval in return.  
  
"Can I make the soup this time? _Please_ , Uncle Rodney?"  
  
Rodney digs in his reusable canvas bag. "I was gonna use these," he says, setting some ripe red tomatoes on the counter.  
  
" _Please_ ," Madison begs again. "I've watched you make it like a _billion_ times. I can probably do it in my sleep. I mean - you trust me to babysit the boys, right?" she asks, dealing the guilt card from the bottom of the deck.  
  
Rodney glances at the fruit and gives Madison a nod. "Okay, but _I_ cut the tomatoes, onions, and garlic. After that, you're in charge." He drops a kiss on Madison's forehead before carrying the tomatoes to the sink. He talks Logan and Callum through putting the groceries away, and then has them try on their new tennis shoes (which they'll undoubtedly outgrow in a month or two). While they discuss whose neon stripes are cooler, he starts heating the griddle for his special grilled cheese.  
  
Sunday is a lazy day in the McKay household, where the kids can do whatever they like as long as their homework is done. After lunch and a marathon Monopoly game that lasts until dinner, Rodney retreats to his study. Madison is in her room immersed in a book and Logan and Callum are killing Xbox zombies in the family room, judging by what he hears. Sitting at his desk, he smiles at the picture of himself and his 'kids'. Their parents, his sister Jeannie and brother-in-law Kaleb, died in a car accident three years ago. He can still hear her, the first time she got pregnant, making him promise to take care of her kid if something happened to both her and Kaleb. He agreed, never expecting to have to make good on it.  
  
Then came the horrific day when it actually happened.  
  
Rodney admits that losing his sister, and the kids losing their parents, **was** horrific. But the part he'd dreaded - that he thought he'd fail at utterly - somehow came naturally. Raising the kids is more complicated because he's a single parent, but he's managed fine so far.  
  
Being a scientist, Rodney's used to researching every aspect of any new undertaking. He hadn't been able to do that this time, since the kids came to live with him almost immediately. Elizabeth Zelenka, the head of Atlantis Biotech, had insisted that Rodney take leave to get them all settled. She also gave him the name of a parenting website, along with a promise that she and her husband Radek would help however they could. The website (and the Zelenkas) quickly became his secret weapons.  
  
Rodney devoured the entire website in three days. (It's not like he could sleep.) Due to the kids' four-year age range, there have been plenty of issues, from Pee-Wee Baseball to braces to schoolyard bullies. Luckily, he's never short of help. He recently noticed Madison starting to bud into adolescence, so he invited Elizabeth and Radek to dinner and pounced on Elizabeth the moment she stepped out of the car, begging her to help with _the talk_.  


Rodney considered the life insurance and accident settlements, and gave his real estate broker (a friend of Elizabeth's) a list of his instant family's needs, including a quick closing date. Teyla Emmagan lived up to her reputation and found the perfect house in Seattle's Queen Anne neighborhood within days. Two weeks later, Rodney and the kids moved out of his cramped apartment and into a house with enough room to grow. A few months later, he was back at Atlantis and even working from home two days a week. Since then, he and the kids have settled into a routine, letting him worry less and enjoy being a parent more.  
  
Flipping open his laptop, Rodney enters his password for the work VPN and checks his email. He fires off a few responses, then disconnects and checks his personal email. He's about to head over to the parenting website when he remembers the rude man - John Sheppard or Shepherd - he'd had the run-in with at the store. A quick Google image search provided the correct spelling and Rodney set his plan in motion.  
  
Customer loyalty programs are notorious for keeping track of their customers' purchasing habits along with their contact information. There are sixteen variations of "John", "Jon", "J." and "Johnathan" Sheppard, but only one bought posterboard in the last week.  
  
He remembers the frustrating man's rakish good looks and hesitates, but shakes it off. It's been too long since he's dated - another reason to frequent the _Single Dad_ forum, if only to enjoy the harmless flirting with the other gay dads. Besides, whether or not he's Rodney's type (and he _is_ ), he's probably not even gay, so getting revenge will have to be satisfaction enough.  
  
The hack only takes a few minutes, with Rodney muttering, "Take that, you mop-haired oaf!" as he hits the last key. He dismantles his tunnel into the Fred Meyer customer database, carefully leaving digital footprints that lead to a dead end - just in case anybody bothers to investigate.  
  
Rodney cracks his knuckles, quite happy with his evening's work. He glances up and sees it's 8pm, so he walks through and makes sure the house is locked up. He gives the kids fair warning; 30 minutes for the boys and an hour for Madison. After grabbing a cold Molson's, he goes back to the den and clicks over to the parenting website. He checks the forums to see if his recent quest for educational Xbox games has gotten any traction, then signs into the chatroom.  
  
` 3KidsAndMe has entered the room  
AFDad waves to 3KidsAndMe  
AFDad: How's it going tonight, 3Kids?  
FlyWithMe waves to 3KidsAndMe  
3KidsAndMe: Hey there, AFDad, FlyWithMe  
FlyWithMe: Have a good day, 3Kids? I was just about to go put my munchkins to bed  
3KidsAndMe: Started out frustrating, but trust me - it's been a good, productive evening!  
FlyWithMe: Cool  
FlyWithMe: You'll have to tell me about it next time. Kids're fighting - bbl.  
FlyWithMe has left the room  
3KidsAndMe: Deal!  
3KidsAndMe: Damn... Oh well. How're the girls, AFDad?  
  
` ######  
  
John logs off to break up an argument over which coordinated outfits the twins will wear to school in the morning. After separating them and getting everyone ready for bed, he comes back and checks the chatroom, but 3KidsAndMe has logged out. He's a bit arrogant, but you could live on the storm of snark he produces. 3KidsAndMe has been doing a lot of flirting, too, if John's not mistaken. John hasn't dated since Zane's death, but he feels like it might be time.  
  
Later, after locking up and checking on the kids (sleeping), John climbs under the covers. He stretches to enjoy the feel of his muscles working. Scratching his stomach leads to trailing his fingers down to lightly touch his cock, which swells to life at the first caress. John sheds his boxers to stroke himself quietly. After being alone for so long, just the thought of _kissing_ is enough to bring him to full arousal. Suddenly, he pictures the irate dad from Fred Meyer. The memory of his nipples straining against his shirt, along with the mesmerizing ass his khakis were hugging, causes all sorts of fantasies. Thoughts of kissing that smirk right off him start the orgasm bubbling up. With a few quick jerks of his cock and a tweak of his nipple, John comes, feeling the warm liquid landing on his chest and stomach.  
  
######  
  
Rodney's eager to see if his hack worked, so he gets to Fred Meyer earlier than usual and wanders up and down the aisles while keeping an eye out for the spiky-haired posterboard thief. Ten minutes into his vigil the miscreant appears, and Rodney leaves the clothing department to follow him at a distance.  
  
######

John plows through his shopping as quickly as possible. Robert has a slight fever, and he doesn't want to burden Gianna and Luther with three kids and an unknown illness any longer than necessary. Whipping up and down aisles with a surgeon's precision, he grabs what he absolutely needs and nothing else.  
  
He makes it to the checkouts in 15 minutes, compared to his usual 40. Jolene's not at her register so John figures she's on break and jumps into a newer cashier's lane. Elaine is almost as fast as Jolene, and soon John's keying in his loyalty number and is getting his total.  
  
"That's $202.84, sir," she says.  
  
John automatically hits the _Approve_ button, even though the total seems a bit high. Worry about Robert makes him shrug it off and accept his receipt.  
  
The high total niggles at John even more than the loose wheel on his cart, so he digs the receipt out of the bag as he pops the trunk. Stopped behind his car, he scans down to the standard account information. In bold letters, it says:  
  
 **Congratulations, You Jerk Sheppard  
You've Saved -$31.29  
  
** John stares in disbelief. He checks the sign to make sure he's at Fred Meyer and not Johnnie Brocks Party Palace. After quickly piling the groceries in the trunk, he jogs back to the store.  
  
Luckily, the manager is standing in front of the Customer Service counter. "Hey, Hugh," John says, handing over the receipt. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"  
  
Hugh examines the receipt, noticing the negative savings amount before he sees ... "You jerk?"  
  
"Yeah... Is this some new PR thing? 'Cause I don't think it's gonna fly." 

Hugh walks over to a customer who's just finished checking out. "Mister Bascom, can I see your receipt a minute?"  


Hugh shows John the slip of paper. "I don't get it. This one says, 'Congratulations Marlon Bascom, you've saved $14.52.'" Hugh flags down a few other customers, all of whom have normal receipts.  
  
"I'm sorry about this, John," Hugh says. "I don't know what's going on. Let's void out your loyalty account and get you a new one."  
  
"Thanks, Hugh," John says. As they walk back to Costumer Service, he hears someone clear their throat and looks up to see Dr. Sourpuss glaring at him.  
  
"Why, John Sheppard," Dr. Sourpuss gloats. "Is there something wrong with your bill?" He turns on his heel and heads for the door, ignoring John's muttered, "Asshole."  
  
######  
  
Rodney hates shopping, but he hates what online grocery retailers have the nerve to call 'produce' even more. Add that to the fact that Logan is _also_ severely allergic to citrus, and his trips to the store become unavoidable. He usually leaves the kids at home with 12-year-old Madison in charge. Still, he doesn't like leaving them unsupervised for too long.  
  
This trip, he's picking up supplies for the boys' Little League fall season along with his usual groceries. He'd balked before remembering that he hadn't been able to help out at all during the spring season, and decided to take his turn rather than get dirty looks from the coaches and other parents.  
  
With his basket nearly full of the weekly staples, Rodney returns to the meat department to load up on hotdogs. He not sure how many to buy, only having been told 'be sure to get enough', so he's stacking the last of twenty Oscar Meyer packages in his cart when he's struck by a thought. This _is_ Seattle, after all. Rodney spots a nearby display of vegetarian soy-dogs and dumps all of them atop the others.  
  
He's about to go get buns when he hears someone click their tongue in disapproval. He looks up to find-- "You!"  
  
######

"Well, I can certainly see that you're concerned about _your_ family's health," John says.  
  
Dr. Sourpuss scowls and mutters, "Jerk."  
  
Turning his cart towards the front of the store, John says, "Whatever, ya loser," raising his middle finger as he walks away. He's clearly hit a nerve, judging by the response. "Bastard!"  
  
John sees Jolene on Lane 5, and gets in line. The crowd is lighter this Sunday for some reason (while Jolene finishes up the previous customer, John racks his brain for a sporting event he might be missing) so there are only three cashiers working. Dr. Sourpuss flips John off when he walks by a few minutes later, pushing a seriously overloaded cart.  
  
"John?" Jolene asks quietly, watching Rodney pull into Lane 8. "What was that about?"  
  
Always the quick thinker, John feigns shock, "What? You haven't _heard_?"  
  
"Heard _what_?" Jolene whispers.  
  
John hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "That's the crazy doctor from the news."  
  
"Crazy doctor?" Despite her widening eyes, she misses the apple rolling out of John's reusable produce net when she sets it on the scale.  
  
John grins internally. He's got her - hook, line, and sinker.  
  
"Oh, yeah. He was so controlling he drove his wife around the bend! Never let her leave the house, made her eat nothing but hotdogs for six months." He leans in confidentially. "I wonder if she's out of the loony bin; did you see how many hotdogs and buns he's buying?"  
  
John suppresses a smirk as Jolene crosses herself. "Well, bless my stars and garters," she says, scanning the rest of his order without conscious thought. "Brenda. _Brenda_!" she calls, waving the young bagger over. "Did you hear what John said?"  
  
"No, what?" she asks, taking over the bagging duties.  
  
John feels guilty as Jolene relates the story and worry flares in Brenda's expression. The tale is interrupted when the PA crackles, "Can I get bagger assistance on Lane 8, please? Bagger on Lane 8."  


John glances over to verify that's where Sourpuss is. As Brenda starts to respond, John stops her with a hand on her arm. "Be careful."  
  
"Oh, god, is that _him_?" John nods, and she hisses, "What do I do?"  
  
"Try to keep the cart between you and him. You know, in case you have to bolt."  
  
His guilt ratchets up at the tiny 'Eep!' that Brenda can't contain before she slowly trudges towards the crazy man and certain doom. "Thanks, Jolene," he says as he piles bags in his cart, but there's no answer. Jolene waves absently, but her eyes are laser-focused on "The Mad Doctor."  
  
######  
`  
FlyWithMe has entered the room  
HomeDad has entered the room  
3KidsAndMe: Hey, Flyer. Good weekend?  
FlyWithMe: Good, good! How about you?  
HornyGirlsHere has entered the room  
3KidsAndMe has booted HornyGirlsHere with the message, "Die, Spambot! Die!"  
3KidsAndMe: WHEN will these morons understand this is mostly a gay dads channel?  
FlyWithMe: LOL!  
NeverDateAgain: Hey - don't include me in that, 3Kids!  
3KidsAndMe: Yes, but we have to have *some* straight guys around here, NeverDate, or we'd have nobody to make fun of.  
FlyWithMe: He has a point, NeverDate  
NeverDateAgain glares at the room  
NeverDateAgain: Bastards... May the next person who goes down on you have braces - aka "pecker wreckers"  
FlyWithMe: Ouch...  
3KidsAndMe: Oh, blowjobs... I remember those.  
AFDad: Did someone say blowjob?  
`  
######  
  
Ever since buying the Little League's supplies, Rodney's been getting the strangest looks from people at Fred Meyer, along with coupons for every condiment known to man. This time, a bagger crosses herself before circling _wide_ around him to get out the door.  
  
Nobody will give him a straight answer, and he's convinced that Sheppard's to blame. Now all he has to do is figure out exactly what the lout has done.  
  
He'd be worried about it, but he's in too good a mood. He had thought Sheppard and he had reached an understanding, only to discover a twin-pack of enemas while checking out last week. Sheppard's smug look had clearly proclaimed his guilt, but now he'll get his comeuppance.  


Rodney's backpack conceals a homemade degausser of his design, though he'd let Madison do a lot of the soldering work. She's nearly as gifted with electronics as Rodney, something that always makes him smile. They'd tested it on Radek's parking permit while he and Elizabeth were over for dinner, and gotten confirmation the next morning. Radek had stormed into the office, railing about being not able to get into the garage. Rodney's main worry was that the 9-volt battery creating a static discharge like the dual C-cell batteries had.  
  
Rodney lurks, sifting through organic grapes and strawberries until Sheppard walks by. He flips on the power and hefts the backpack, holding it out as he passes behind his nemesis.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
Rodney sees the spark jump to Sheppard's backside, and gets momentarily distracted by his black jeans. Sadly, the view is lost when Sheppard spins around and narrows his eyes.  
  
"Asshole," Sheppard mutters.  


Rodney shakes his head and produces his most innocent smile, "Sorry - don't know what you're talking about." He hums a happy tune as he makes his way to the international food aisle.  
  
######  
  
John's backside stings for ten minutes. There _are_ mats in Produce to prevent falls when the vegetable misters inevitably overspray, but they don't enough static electricity to give him such a strong shock. Do they?  
  
He's still feeling a slight tingle as he turns into Jolene's lane a few minutes later. He starts unloading with a quick greeting, when a cart pulls up behind him. Looking up to see the smirking face of Dr. Sourpuss, he glares and starts to make a smartass remark, only to be cut off by Sourpuss, who waggles a finger at him dismissively and says, "Come on, then. We don't _all_ have all day, you know."  
  
John flips the man off under cover of a Wheaties box before grabbing his salad mix and fresh veggies and piling them on the conveyor belt.  
  
Jolene makes small talk as she rings him up and double-checks the total before sending it to the payment machine. John hits the _Okay_ button, stacks the last bag in his cart, and holds out his hand for the receipt.  
  
"Invalid transaction," Jolene says when her cash register beeps at her. "Can you swipe your card one more time?"  
  
John does, and Jolene says, "Invalid transaction again. Sugar, maybe your card's expired?"  
  
John checks, but the expiration date is a full 14 months out. Remembering the shock he felt earlier, he has a sneaking suspicion he knows what's going on, but says, "Let me try another one."  
  
This time the reader won't even recognize his card. All his other cards are busts, as well.  


Jolene says, "Maybe our systems are down. Let me try something." She pulls out her own card and successfully puts through a $1 charge. "Sorry, John. It's not the system."  
  
Patting his pockets, John sighs, "I don't even have any checks on me."  
  
"Is there a problem, John?" Hugh asks as he walks up.  
  
"Yeah, Sheppard," Sourpuss interjects with a too-knowing tone. "Is there a problem?"  


John whirls on Sourpuss. " _You_ did this!" 

"I simply don't know to what you are referring," Sourpuss says haughtily. " _Some_ of us are capable of providing for our family."  
  
"Capable of putting them in the insane asylum," John says loud enough to carry to nearby lanes, shocking a bagger into dropping a dozen eggs with an audible gasp.  
  
" _What_ did you say?" Sourpuss demands.  
  
"John - _John_! It's not worth the danger," Jolene hisses, shooting worried glances between John and Sourpuss.  
  
"Tell you what," Hugh says, trying to defuse the tension. "I know you're good for it. Bring us a check the next time you're in, okay?"  


John's heartfelt thanks are drowned out by Sourpuss' exclamation, " _What_? You can't do that!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Mister..."  
  
"McKay. _Doctor_ Rodney McKay," Sourpuss belts out. "I've been shopping here for _six years._ And when I walked out with a twelve pack of Pepsi a few weeks ago - _on accident_ \- I was treated like a criminal. A common criminal!"  
  
John's death glare at Sourpuss in interrupted by Hugh's hand on his shoulder. Hugh walks him to the customer service counter and has John sign an I.O.U. on a copy of his receipt. John grins when he hears the bagger say to Sourpuss, "I'm sorry, but could you keep the cart right here between us?"  
  
######  
  
` FlyWithMe has requested a private chat from you. To accept, type "/private FlyWithMe" and press return  
3KidsAndMe has entered PrivateRoom109  
FlyWithMe: Hey, 3Kids  
3KidsAndMe: Hey. What's up?  
FlyWithMe: Kids are asleep. A guy in the room won't stop hitting on me, so I thought I'd go private. That ok?  
3KidsAndMe: What, you don't like people flirting with you? And it's only 8pm; my kids are still up, so I may go AFK for a bit if something happens. What time is it there?  
FlyWithMe: 8pm here too - my kids must be younger. I've got 2 girls, 7 and a boy who's 6. So bedtime here's a little earlier.  
3KidsAndMe: Ah. I've got 3 kids, too  
FlyWithMe: Duh!  
3KidsAndMe slaps his forehead.  
3KidsAndMe:  <-- forget that's my nick sometimes... Anyway - 1 girl, 12, and 2 boys, 8 and 9. Boys have about 15 minutes left on their Xbox, and then bedtime.  
FlyWithMe: Xbox? Cool - I'm coming to your house! We're just barely out of Barney in my household.  
FlyWithMe: BTW, I don't mind _you_ flirting with me. As long as that's what we've been doing...  
3KidsAndMe: My turn - DUH!  
FlyWithMe: LOL!  
3KidsAndMe: Speaking of households, you're apparently on the West Coast if it's the same time. Whereabouts?  
FlyWithMe: Seattle. You?  
3KidsAndMe: Seriously? Same here!  
FlyWithMe: Cool...  
FlyWithMe: You know, I know we're both busy, but I kinda like you. Maybe one of these days - since we're so close...  
3KidsAndMe: I'd like that  
FlyWithMe: But I gotta warn you. Been so long since I've been on a date...  
3KidsAndMe: Same here - don't remind me.  
FlyWithMe: They say it's like riding a bike, though I prefer airplanes myself.  
3KidsAndMe got that from your nickname  
3KidsAndMe: Oldest needs help with her homework. You'll be on later?  
FlyWithMe: Maybe...  
3KidsAndMe: Cool. We can pick this up later - including maybe this date thing ;)  
FlyWithMe: Cool  
  
` ######  
  
John scopes out Fred Meyer, finally spotting Sourpuss McKay near the canned vegetables. The grouch lifts a backpack out of his cart and tries to sneak up behind John, but he whips around holding out a twelve pack of toilet paper. There's a spark and a zap, followed by the distinct smell of ozone. Ha! John _knew_ it!  
  
"Listen you - you - _asshat_!" John says, poking an accusatory finger in Sourpuss' chest. "I don't know what your problem is, but I'm tired of this." He emphasizes his words with more pokes, backing Sourpuss towards an endcap of diced stewed tomatoes. "This ends _now_!" he declares with a final prod, watching him lose his footing and tumble to the floor along with about 750 cans of tomatoes.  
  
"Hey, _you_ started it," Sourpuss retorts, trying unsuccessfully to get up.  
  
The crash draws two stockers and Manager Hugh, who asks, "What? Did you want the can on the _bottom_?" when he realizes who's sitting in the middle of this latest calamity.  
  
Sourpuss' mouth gapes like a fish. He finally points at John and stammers, " _No_! It was _him_!"  
  
"What, John?" Hugh asks incredulously. "Are you claiming John _pushed you_? Listen, Mister-"  
  
"Why do you call him John, but I'm 'Mister'? I've been shopping here six freaking years."  
  
Before Hugh can answer, John says, "It's because I'm a genuinely likeable person." He continues in a stage whisper, "And _I've_ never driven my wife to the loony bin." Looking at McKay, "Unlike _some_ people..."  
  
" _That's_ the rumor you started? You bastard - no wonder I've been getting nasty looks!" As McKay finally gets back on his feet, he snaps, "I don't even _have_ a wife, I'll have you know." Brushing himself off, he adds, "I've _never_ had a wife."  
  
Hugh turns to John, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "If he never had a wife, where'd he get those kids from?"  


John leans in and says, "It's like something you hear on the evening news," before walking away.  
  
######  
  
Rodney's week starts off okay, but Wednesday afternoon he gets a phone call from home. "Uncle Rodney?"  
  
"Hey, Mads - what's up?" he asks, tucking the phone in his shoulder and resuming his typing.  
  
"There's a lady outside."  
  
"Lady? What lady?" Suddenly Madison has his _full_ attention.  


"The paper says her name is Laura Cadman. She's from King County Child Protective Services."  
  
Rodney's face goes white. "Okay, do _not_ let her in the house. I'll be right there." Rodney hangs up and slaps his laptop shut, hollering at Zelenka that he's got a family emergency. He's out the door before Zelenka can get any details.  
  
######  
  
"Again, I _am_ sorry," Laura Cadman says. "But, remember, we have to follow up on every credible threat that comes into our office."  
  
"And this threat-" Rodney starts.  
  
"Again, Mister - I mean _Doctor,_ McKay, I can't divulge that. All I can tell you is that it's someone with your children's best interest at heart, who unfortunately has some misinformation."  
  
Folding his arms over his chest, Rodney says, "You know, you didn't have to be so adversarial when I showed up."  
  
Cadman shakes her head. "It didn't help that you started yelling at me as soon as you got here, _sir_."  
  
"Yes, well," Rodney says as he motions to the foyer.  
  
Laura Cadman nods and lets herself out.  
  
Rodney takes a deep breath and tries to calm down from the afternoon's adrenaline rush. Obviously someone at Fred Meyer overheard Sheppard, that spiky-haired bastard, or the manager's comment, and reported Rodney to the County. He takes another deep breath, then calls his kids, "You can come out now - the mean lady's gone."  
  
They clamber down the stairs, giving Rodney hugs in turn. "You okay, Uncle Rodney?" Logan asks, swinging from his arm. He's the youngest and doesn't much remember the loss of his parents, or the few days the siblings spent in foster care before Rodney could pick them up. Rodney imagines how scared **he** would be to go through today's events, and devises a plan to get them out of their CPS-imposed funk.  
  
"I don't feel like cooking tonight," Rodney announces as he bounces a delighted Logan a couple of times. "How about we go out to dinner?"  
  
"But it's Wednesday night," Callum objects. "Pizza night!"  
  
Rodney considers for a moment. "So we'll go out and get pizza."  
  
"At Chucky Cheese?" Logan suggests.  
  
"How about someplace with _good_ pizza," Rodney counters. "Pizzacato? They have videogames..."  
  
"Cool!" the boys cry in unison, with Logan adding, "And can we get ice cream after?"  


The jarring visit by CPS brought up the possibility - however remote - of losing his kids. He's in no mood to deny them anything this evening, not even pizza _and_ ice cream on a school night.  
  
"But, Uncle Rodney," Madison says, "I've still got to finish my homework."  
  
"Homework-schmomework," Rodney replies. "Tomorrow we're all playing hooky and going to the zoo. Who's with me?"  
  
The boys jump up and down crying, "Me!" Even as Madison rolls her eyes, she gives Rodney a smile.

Tomorrow will _definitely_ be a better day.  
  
#######  
  
After stuffing themselves with pizza and ice cream, they take a walk around Queen Anne Park before piling in the SUV and heading home. It's only a five-minute drive, but Rodney and Madison end up carrying Callum and Logan inside, completely tuckered out from their mid-week adventure.  
  
Rodney tucks the kids in and tells Madison she can stay up if she wants. He'd planned to touch base with FlyWithMe on the Single Dads chatroom, but under the circumstances the night out with the kids was more important. Besides, it's been so long he's not sure he even remembers how to date.  
  
The next morning, Rodney and Madison make a stack of waffles 'as big as my head!' according to Logan. Rodney calls the kids' schools and lets them know they'll be out, but will return on Friday.  
  
"Okay, who's ready to go to the zoo?"  
  
######  
  
After four hours at the Woodland Park Zoo, Rodney and the kids drive to the Pacific Science Center. "Can we go to the planetarium, Uncle Rodney?" Madison asks. She's a lot like her mother, and he can imagine her following in Jeannie's footsteps as a theoretical astrophysicist.  
  
"Definitely. But first - lunch!" Rodney says, pointing skyward.  
  
It's their first time eating in the Space Needle restaurant, but definitely not their last.  
  
Rodney and the kids spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the science exhibits. At sunset, he decides it's time to get everyone back on schedule, so they head home. He pulls into the driveway with the boys talking up a blue streak about everything they've done that day.  
  
After homework and dinner, the boys play videogames while Rodney goes to his office and starts catching up on the emails he's missed in the last 24 hours. Luckily, there aren't many; Zelenka ran interference today, so Rodney can start tomorrow's workday up to speed.  
  
######  
  
Christmas break is approaching, and Gianna and Luther have gone to Sicily to visit Gianna's elderly mother. Their daughter Bethany is staying behind due to some late exams, which is very lucky for John, since she's available for almost as much babysitting as Gianna usually is.  
  
After settling his kids into bed Monday night, John grabs his laptop on the way to his bedroom. After brushing his teeth and stripping down to his boxers, he logs on and checks his email. It's only 8:20pm, but the early winter sunsets make it feel much later.  
  
After checking a few of his favorite sites, John goes to the parenting website. He skips the forums in favor of going straight to the chatroom and sets up a private chat.  
  
######  
`  
FlyWithMe has requested a private chat with you. To accept, type "/private FlyWithMe" and press return  
3KidsAndMe has entered PrivateRoom147  
FlyWithMe: Hey, 3Kids  
3KidsAndMe: Haven't seen you online much the last week or so  
FlyWithMe: Yeah - Xmas break and all.  
FlyWithMe: So look. I know we talked about it, but we never set a date - so that's what I wanna do.  
3KidsAndMe: Okay...  
FlyWithMe: What're you doing this coming Thursday evening?  
3KidsAndMe: Just normal family stuff. Why?  
FlyWithMe: Awesome.  
FlyWithMe: I know we're out of practice at this dating stuff, so I figure why not go for coffee? Meet face-to-face at a coffee shop and say hi. And if we click in person like we do online...  
3KidsAndMe: Hmmm...  
3KidsAndMe: You know what? I like that idea.  
FlyWithMe: Okay, cool.`

Now here's the part Rodney finds weirdest about the whole online thing - finding out what the other person looks like.  
  
` FlyWithMe: One sec  
3KidsAndMe: Do we want to swap pics? So we know who we're meeting?  
3KidsAndMe: ...  
FlyWithMe: Sorry, kidlet issue.  
FlyWithMe: You know what? After talking to you online for so long, I think we can wing it. I bet we'll be able to spot each other.  
FlyWithMe: What do you say?  
`  
Rodney considers it. And while he's genuinely intrigued by the anonymous man on the other side of the monitor, he's not _crazy_.  
  
` 3KidsAndMe: One sec - let me find something  
`  
Rodney programs a quick macro and attaches it to a URL.  
`  
3KidsAndMe: How about this place?  
3KidsAndMe has sent Ladro.url to FlyWithMe  
  
` Rodney waits for FlyWithMe to click on the link, which comes with an extra feature; a tunnel that opens a communication link between Rodney's computer and FlyWithMe's. It should also trigger the microphone and webcam ports to open covertly.  
  
Rodney hears a couple clicks, then a voice saying, "Caffe Ladro. He's got good taste."  
  
The webcam springs to life and reveals a smiling John Sheppard focused on his screen, obviously reading the Caffe Ladro website.  
  
` FlyWithMe: Caffe Ladro? You've got good taste, buddy.  
`  
Rodney stares at his screen, aghast. Of _course_ the guy he's been flirting with - the same guy who once said that higher math 'got him hot ;)' - is the same posterboard-stealing, rumor-spreading moron from the Fred Meyer.  
  
Rodney's starts to type an excuse, but stops at the sound of a tired little boy. He looks around but quickly realizes it's Sheppard's kid, not Logan. And damn if he can hate a man who looks at his child like that. Rodney watches John soothe him with a kiss and an offer to sleep with Daddy, and then return to the keyboard.  
  
` FlyWithMe: Little one woke up, gotta run.  
FlyWithMe: I'll see you at 7pm at Caffe Ladro on Queen Anne this Thursday.  
`  
Rodney's a bit dumbfounded to find himself typing:  
  
` 3KidsAndMe: Okay...  
FlyWithMe: Cool  
FlyWithMe has left PrivateRoom147  
  
` Rodney watches the screen, trying to think of a way out of the date. John pushes the laptop back and stretches to one side, his long, lean torso filling the screen for a second before he comes back holding a phone.  
  
"Who you callin, Daddy?"  
  
"Missus Scroggie's house, munchkin. I'm gonna see if Bethany can watch you on Thursday while I go meet a friend. Is that okay?"

_That's it_! Rodney cuts the feed and kills the tunnel to Sheppard's computer, because Sheppard just gave him the _perfect_ out. "Scroggie, Scroggie, Scroggie," he mutters, then jots her name on a scrap of paper. He does a quick Google search only comes up with a Luther and Gianna Scroggie who live on Queen Anne. Another few keystrokes confirm they have a daughter named Bethany, who's a freshman at WSU Pullman.  
  
"Good, good," Rodney says to himself. He grabs a piece of notepaper and scrawls a quick note. Then he grabs his checkbook and fills one out - in an amount large enough to get _and keep_ a college student's attention. Sealing it in an envelope, he puts it with his keys to remind himself to mail it in the morning.  
  
######  
  
John wakes up Tuesday in a great mood; the kids' winter break starts Friday and he's staying home with them for the first ten days. And, oh yeah - he has a date on Thursday. He bounds out of bed with a big smile. Robert is sprawled across way more than his share of the bed, after having a bad dream and asking, "Can I sleep wif you, Daddy?" John snatches a quick shower before rousing the kids.  


###### 

Thursday afternoon drags for John, with more daydreaming than actual working. He's been prepping for his upcoming vacation and there's very little left to do, so when 4pm rolls around, he gives in and shuts down his workstation.  
  
Due to lighter than usual traffic he makes it home in just under thirty minutes to release Bethany from her babysitting duties. "See you at 6:30!"  
  
Bethany colors slightly before she slips out the storm door.  
  
The next two hours are a blur of chatter, homework, and dinner. A few minutes after 6:30, John answers a knock at the door. "Hey, Bethany. C'mon in."  
  
"Hey, Mister Sheppard," Bethany says, staying on the doorstep. "I'm... I'm sorry, but I can't babysit tonight."  
  
"Can't..." John's brain refuses to process her words. He's been looking forward to this more than he'd be willing to admit. "Everything okay?" Bethany gives him a pained look, so he asks again, "Bethany? Are you okay?"  


Bethany sighs, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just can't babysit tonight."  


"That's alright," John says, patting Bethany's arm. "As long as you're okay." He'll leave 3KidsAndMe a private message. - 3KidsAndMe is a parent, he knows that these things happen.  
  
"He didn't tell me what to say," she blurts out, then covers her mouth and blushes to the roots of her hair.  
  
" _Who_ didn't tell you _what_ to say?" When Bethany doesn't reply, he demands, "Bethany..."  
  
"I'm really sorry, Mister Sheppard... I _suck_ at lying. I just..." Bethany glances across the street at her house. "Wait here a second, okay?"  
  
John watches her run across the street, returning a minute later with an envelope. "This came in the mail," she says, handing over a hand-written letter. "He asked me not to tell you his name and it's not on the letter-"  
  
John scans the scribbled letter that reads, " _Bethany - You don't know me, but I've enclosed a check to help with your school expenses, in return for a simple favor. Whatever happens, you can't do any babysitting Thursday night. Make up an excuse - it doesn't matter what. I need you to do this for me. And don't give anyone my name. Thanks._ " "What check?"  
  
"A $500 check. That's food for almost 3 months, so my mom and dad can use that money somewhere else." 

John searches for a compromise that works for him and also lets Bethany keep her word. "Okay," he says, calmly. "Can I see the check?"  
  
"Oh." Her face falls. "I deposited it yesterday. Oh, wait! My bank has a new app - it emails a picture of the check you deposited." She pulls out her phone and shows John the photo, keeping her thumb over the name. The address is visible, though, and it's on West Wheeler Street, right here in Queen Anne Hill. 

John says, "Okay. How's this? You watch the kids for a half hour and I'll write a check that'll cover food for the rest of the school year. Deal?"  
  
It doesn't take Bethany long to decide. "Deal!" she says, finally coming inside.  
  
"Thanks," he says. He grabs his jacket and keys. "Bye, munchkins. Be good for Bethany. I'll be back in a few minutes!"  
  
It doesn't take John long to find the house on West Wheeler. He notices the _Scientists Do It Repeatedly_ bumper sticker on the SUV in the drive. It gives him a momentary pause before he decides it doesn't mean anything except that Fred Meyer is the only decent grocery in a four-mile radius. As he strides to the door, a wild thought occurs to him. He rings the doorbell, muttering, "It _couldn't_ be."  
  
"Coming!" A pre-teen girl opens the door. "Can I help you?"  
  
"I hope so," John says. "Is your daddy home?"  
  
The girl turns and calls out, "Uncle Rodney! Door!" She hurries off to investigate a small crash in the next room.  
  
Dr. Sourpuss appears at the top of the stairs with a laptop under his arm, and nearly stumbles down the stairs when he sees John. "You!"  
  
"Here's a tip. If you're going to bribe someone you should really do it in cash."  
  
"That little," Rodney sputters. "I specifically instructed her _not_ to give you my name!"  


John smirks. "She _didn't_. But your note didn't say anything about the address, and it's printed on the check. Very convenient."  
  
Rodney mirrors John's stance, arms crossed and glaring. "It's just my luck - I've been flirting with a posterboard thief for the past year."  
  
" _Ten months_!" Rodney's obvious surprise makes John explain. "It was Valentines Day. We were hanging out in the chatroom and you... Well, you said some things...and I said some things. And I remember. Because... Well, dammit, it was important to me." John shuffles his feed. "First time I... First time I felt a connection with someone. Since Zane died."  
  
John falls silent as Rodney takes half a step toward him. He crosses his arms again and says, "Okay, and? Why are you here, anyway?"  


"I just want to show you what you'll be missing." John steps across the threshold, slips a hand behind Rodney's neck, and presses a lip-bruising kiss against his mouth. Feeling Rodney startle and then relax fractionally, he slides his tongue along the seam, seeking entrance. Rodney grants it eagerly, and suddenly the doorway is the only thing holding them up. Rodney's too busy pulling John in closer, and John's hands are full of heart-shaped ass.  
  
They'd have kissed for longer, but they're interrupted when Rodney's niece returns. "Hey, Uncle... _Oh jeez_!"  
  
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Rodney says as he hastily steps back. His pupils are blown, and John grins with satisfaction at the sight. "Mads, this is John. John, this is my niece Madison." Rodney hesitates before he asks, a little shyly, "You wanna come in? Meet the boys?"  
  
John nods, and smiles as Rodney takes his hand and pulls him deeper into the house. As they approach a room where a videogame is blaring, Madison asks, "So, are you dating my uncle now?  
  
######  
  
The botched date turns into a real date. One real date turns into dating (as often as two single dads with three kids each _can_ manage, anyway). Dating turns into a serious relationship. They introduce all the kids and have group activities like bowling and movie night. John quickly becomes "Uncle John" to Rodney's brood, and Rodney is "Uncle Rodney" to all six.  


######

Six months later, they're occupying two booths at Buca di Beppos. The girls are sharing secrets in one while John and Rodney ride herd on the three boys in the other when John hears a whispered conversation. "You ask." "No, _you_ ask!" "I'm not gonna ask them..."  
  
Elbowing Rodney in the side, John picks up his glass and looks over. "Ask us _what_ , Mads?"  
  
The girls blush and look at each other for support. Cara finally speaks up. "When are you gonna get married?"  
  
John nearly spews his beer.  
  
"Yeah, Sheppard," Rodney says with a raised eyebrow. "When _are_ you gonna propose?"  
  
" _Me_ propose? _You_ should be proposing to _me_!"  
  
"I don't think so," Rodney says, patting John's cheek and eliciting giggles from the girls. " _You_ showed up at our house. Clearly you should be the one to propose." He casually takes a sip of John's beer and sets it back down, automatically shooing away the kid who always tries to sneak a taste. "Bobby."  
  
A chuckle brings their attention to their waitress, who's standing tableside with a big grin. "Y'all have six kids between you, and you're thinking about getting married? That is so _The Brady Bunch_!" Her delighted peals of laughter draw the attention of the other diners.  
  
"It gets better!" Rodney says. "Our youngest is named Bobby. Bobby, say hi to the nice lady." And damn if John's heart doesn't pinch just a little every time Rodney refers to the kids as "Ours."  
  
Suddenly shy, Bobby leans into Rodney and murmurs, "Hi..."  
  
"Bobby's slightly crazy father here," Rodney says, bumping shoulders with John, "named him Robert. Bobby or Bob, for short. Now, John, tell the nice lady. _What_ was your late partner's last name again?"  
  
John blushes, shaking his head. Rodney's done this to him before and despite his protests, he secretly loves it - almost as much as the kids. "Marley," he says, taking a swig of beer, restraining his smile enough to keep the beer inside his mouth where it belongs.  
  
Rodney pulls Bobby onto his lap and theatrically says, "That's correct! And so, I present to you - the worlds shortest, whitest Bob Marley!" He smacks a kiss into Bobby's hair while a grinning John rolls his eyes. "Okay, Bobby - do that thing we practiced."  
  
Bobby looks to John, who nods his approval. Bobby turns to the waitress and in the best Jamaican accent a seven-year-old can achieve, says, "Ever' little ting gon' be alright, mon!" This time the nearest tables join the waitress in laughter.  
  
When they've all catch their breath, their waitress says, "You guys are the best. I wish you all the luck and love in the world. Can I get you anything else?"  
  
"Would it be too much to ask you to take our picture?" John asks, taking out his iPhone.  
  
"Oh, honey, that's no trouble at all!" John gratefully hands over his phone. "Okay, everybody come on over here." Madison, Cara, and Lara pile out of their booth to join the others. John throws an arm around Rodney's shoulder and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. "Everybody say cheese."  
  
"CHEESE!"  


John accepts his phone back and makes a mental note to tip especially well. He pulls up the picture and shows Rodney their new family, everyone crushed into one booth and smiling for all they're worth. He puts his phone away and decides to print this one out. It deserves a place on his visor, right next to him and Zane at the Christmas party.


End file.
